


Love's Labors Held

by Marien



Category: Belgariad/Malloreon Series - David & Leigh Eddings
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marien/pseuds/Marien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fic written about Polgara and Durnik, inspired by AlexElizabeth's request for<br/>post-Malloreon fanfic. While this can be read as a stand-alone, I suspect this isn't<br/>the end of the next generation's story either.  Hope it's enjoyed!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Labors Held

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlexElizabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexElizabeth/gifts).



I've been alive a very long time. In that time, I've been kicked by goats, the rare bad-tempered  
(and very stupid) horse, and once, it was an antelope. (It's better not to ask about that last one.)  
Let me tell you: being kicked from the inside out is an entirely different experience. 

Whatever else I didn't know about this child I was carrying, my husband and I had long since  
realized that he or she was not going to be a quiet baby.  
I was happier than I'd ever been, when I realized I was pregnant, but after almost a year of  
this, I was also ready for it to be over.

Mother and Garion's arrival was a relief. Of course, she'd spoken with us beforehand, to  
assure me and Durnik that she'd be there in plenty of time to deliver the baby.  
I was still feeling a bit on edge until she actually arrived. No matter how many times I'd  
attended women in labor, this was different. 

Yes, as a matter of fact, I *did* have odd food cravings. Durnik thought it was rather funny.  
He never intentionally laughed, but those "coughing fits" he had once or twice didn't fool anyone.  
He helped me cook or prepare whatever-it-was, not even complaining  
when I woke him in the middle of the night craving mushrooms that only grow in  
Arendia. I'm sure he cheated on that, but I don't mean to say anything. (Except "I love you".)  
The only time he seemed bothered by it was when I asked for a steak that hadn't yet  
been cooked. Father just shrugged, and pointed out that I *was* half wolf by ancestry,  
and at least I wasn't asking for a live cow. Then Mother told him to hush before he  
upset either of us with his tendency to embellish past events. 

Durnik had asked Aldur if we should forge a sorcerer's amulet for the child, too. Our Master  
had hesitated--the first time I can recall seeing that--and suggested that we wait  
until the baby was at least born. "Your children will be gifted in their own ways...  
they will have their destinies to follow, and those may not be in the Vale."

I thought that he meant that we would have more than one child--but  
it didn't occur to me to ask if he meant at the same time.  
I didn't want to know beforehand. Of course I suspected it might be twins; but  
the whole point of our struggles with the Child of Dark had been that we'd change  
"how things have always been". I'd wait and hope, and anticipate, without knowing what  
*had" to happen.

Labor pains started a few hours after Mother arrived at our cottage. It didn't take  
long...though I'll admit it seemed so, before that night ended. It hurt. I made myself  
endure it silently. She would have understood if I'd made some noise, no doubt,  
but I didn't want to frighten any of the men. I could feel that the baby was all right,  
and anything else wasn't important. I knew the pain would pass.  
Breathe, ride the pain until it subsided, then rest until the next contraction came.  
Finally, she told me to start pushing.  
The sound of my baby crying was a relief. Mother laid the newborn beside me, head  
resting in the crook of my elbow.  
"Don't move," she warned me. "We're not done here. " 

"Is--is it--" 

"Hush. Save your strength." She turned her face away. A brief smile touched her  
lips. "Say hello to my grandson," she added.  
I looked down at him, awed. He was so tiny! He had a thatch of fuzzy brown hair.  
His skin was red, like most newborns. His indignant howl was loud and vigorous.  
He opened his eyes, looking at me. I couldn't stop smiling. 

The voice of a second child broke the momentary silence. She tucked him into  
the curve of my free arm. He was red-haired, almost reminding me of the Dryads,  
but his features were a miniature of my Durnik's. He snuggled in to me. A moment  
later, they both had stopped crying, watching the world around them gravely. 

I touched their faces, lightly, with a fingertip, sending out a gentle thought. Welcome  
without speech. The firstborn had turned his head, when his brother joined us,  
as if looking for his younger sibling.  
"Like you and your sister," Mother whisperemd. "They won't ever be entirely separate  
or alone."

She helped me clean up, then ushered Durnik in first. The joy he felt at seeing our  
twins lit up his face. "Are they boys or girls?" he asked softly, reaching out to  
put his finger in a tiny palm. 

"Both boys," I answered. "That's your firstborn," indicating the baby who had  
taken ahold of his father's forefinger.  
Durnik leaned in and kissed me. "We talked about Enrik, for a boy's name..." he  
mused. "Maybe 'Bradin' for the younger boy?" 

"A good strong name," Father said. I nodded. 

"He has a smith's grip," Garion observed from the doorway. "Aunt Pol, how are you  
feeling?" 

"Wonderful," I told him honestly. "And exhausted."

Father laughed. "Wait til those babies learn to crawl," he said. "You think you're  
tired now--"

"Well, I'm sure you won't mind helping out if your poor daughter needs you," I retorted,  
smirking a little. 

He knelt on the other side of the bed. "No, I won't mind," he replied, a bit more  
seriously. 

They all wanted to take turns holding the twins. Mother shooed Garion and Father  
out after a little while.  
Durnik curled up beside me, holding me close. The babies drifted off to sleep in  
their cradle. Luckily, it was big enough for both of them to be comfortable.

"They're not sorcerers," he murmured, his voice so low I wasn't sure he meant me to hear  
him.

"I know." I'd known since I first touched them. Bright, happy children, alert  
and full of life...but mortal. The Will and the Word didn't pass to them.  
"Does it bother you?" I sat up, to see his face. 

"No," he replied at once. "I'd wondered about it. I thought of asking Eriond or Cyradis if they knew whether Garion's and Ce'Nedra's children--or ours--would be sorcerers. But it's not as important as they are. I hope you're not disappointed by it...?" he sighed in relief when I gave him a vehement "No" to that. 

"I think..." he hesitated. "I'm a bit relieved, if anything. " He was silent for a long moment, seeming to struggle for words. "Pol, you remember Korim, and when Zandramas was holding Geran to try to force him to touch the Sardion?"

"Yes." The change of subject baffled me, but I knew Durnik was often wiser than people realized. He wasn't good at twisting words, perhaps, but he had a good mind. I waited to see where he was leading with the question. 

"She didn't realize that Ce'Nedra was planning to trick her; didn't see it coming, when Ce'Nedra snatched Geran away from her. Why didn't she? She certainly wasn't stupid. We'd have had an easier time of it if she had been," he added wryly. 

I laughed at that. "Well, that's certainly true." I mulled over what he'd asked. "At the time, I thought she was selfish. Too busy worrying about her own safety with Garion getting ready to strike--or so she thought."

"That was part of it, yes, but I think it went deeper than that. I think she'd gone so far into being a sorceress--and the Child of Dark--that nothing else was real to her anymore. She couldn't understand how much a parent could love their child, enough to risk literally everything for them." Durnik kept his voice low, glancing over at the crib. "I just mean... the ability never comes without a price. Even we've paid..." He shivered. 

"Yes, I remember. " He'd died serving the Prophecy's ends. It had been the worst moment of my life, before he was able to be brought back to us. I could understand, even agree, with being glad that our children wouldn't have to face such battles. I took his hand in both of mine. "You're right." 

"Who knows, maybe one of our sons will be a smith, too, or a marvelous physician like  
his mother. And really-- Polgara, none of us knows how long we'll live. Not even sorcerers.  
We know what's possible. That's not always the same thing. Love lasts beyond now, doesn't it?  
That's what counts."

"Yes. Like Mother and Father...when they were apart. Or me and Beldaran. I just wasn't  
sure if you'd feel that way about it. "  
We both turned to look at our children. Durnik's smile was undimmed. "I do," he assured me.  
"I couldn't be more proud to be a father. Thank you. If this is our reward...it's worth it."

"Yes," I agreed emphatically. 

He stroked my hair. I kissed his cheek; had to stifle a yawn. "For this now, I need to sleep too. Hah.  
Anyone who thinks men do the hardest work..."

"Rest, love. I'll stay, if that's all right," he said.

"If!" My eyes snapped back open. "Durnik, you even think of leaving me alone with these  
two, and I--I'll turn you into a frog," I threatened. 

"Done, then," he rumbled. 

The last thing I remembered was him tucking the blankets around me, as I slid into  
happy, curious dreams of what might lie ahead.


End file.
